


Inescapable

by GraceNM



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deviates From Canon, F/M, Formalwear, Hot Tub, Office Sex, Post-Episode: s07e22 Chosen, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-05 18:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16372571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceNM/pseuds/GraceNM
Summary: Our secret moments / In a crowded room / They’ve got no idea / About me and youBuffy said it would be "years, if ever," but what if it wasn't? And what if she had to crash a Wolfram & Hart party to let Angel know? A post-Chosen AU with formal wear, a hot tub, and two people who might finally be able to say yes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mrs Gordo (MrsGordo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsGordo/gifts).



> Inspired by Taylor Swift's "[Dress](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JjdjOZvvucw)" and my fabulous Bangel bestie, Mrs Gordo! Thanks also to Mrs G and [headupheelsdown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/headupheelsdown) for the helpful suggestions!

Angel was still adjusting his tuxedo jacket as he stepped into the ballroom. The Wolfram & Hart gala was already in full swing, the music loud and the dance floor crowded. Groups of fabulously dressed people milled about, picking up food from the white-draped tables and placing drink orders at the two long bars on either end of the room.

He should have been here half an hour ago. Miriam, the W&H event coordinator, had shaken her head at him sternly as he passed the line of guests still waiting to get in, but she'd been too busy talking to someone in her earpiece about a catering mix-up to chastise him.

He spotted Wesley and Lorne chatting at the head table — which was covered in gold and raised on a platform — and made his way over. The crowd parted for him easily, most of the guests giving him skeptical looks. Though this party was partially intended to welcome him into his role as CEO, he felt decidedly unwelcome. A perverse part of him wanted to slip into game face and give them a show, but then he remembered this was supposed to be a charity event and many of the guests were not, in fact, Wolfram & Hart clients. But he couldn't resist glowering a little more just for fun.

"There you are," Wesley said as Angel joined him and Lorne. "We were beginning to think you changed your mind."

"I'm still keeping that option open," Angel said testily.

"No date tonight, double-oh-heaven?" Lorne teased.

Angel tried not to wince. Even thinking about his love life was achingly painful for him right now. Buffy was in London, helping Giles with an intractable demon problem and thinking over everything he'd told her. Even if she had been in town, if things had been different, he wouldn't want her anywhere near a Wolfram & Hart party. Too risky, for both of them.

"No, I'm under strict orders to mingle," Angel finally replied. "Can't be tied down."

Lorne gave him a smile that Angel didn't quite understand and signaled to one of the roaming cater waiters.

"The big guy needs a drink, stat," he said, and gave instructions for a double of Angel's favorite single barrel.

Then some of the more daring party guests risked coming up to speak with him, and he was lost in a sea of small talk. He was on his second drink before he could finally break away for a bit of a breather. Lorne and Wesley had stuck nearby, helping to smooth over awkward moments and distracting the hint-resistant when it was clear Angel needed to move on to the next person waiting. 

Angel half-listened as Lorne repeated his cover story — he was portraying the international charity's mascot, naturally — to a guest who was clueless about the supernatural. "Oh, yes, he's huge in Japan," Lorne said. "All the little children love chasing the Green Dragon."

Lorne's obvious glee was about the only thing keeping Angel from adopting a permanent scowl.

He lifted his whiskey to his lips as he scanned the room again. He spotted Gunn laughing with a group, and Fred visiting the buffet. He'd just taken a sip when his eyes locked onto a woman entering the ballroom. He immediately recognized the slim curve of her body and the rhythm of her gait. He knew who it was even before the light hit her gorgeous face, her unmistakable, adorable nose.

He choked and coughed, feeling the whiskey burn his throat. She shouldn't be here.

Next to him, he heard Wesley breathe out a quiet, "I say..."

Angel watched as Buffy turned around as if to look for someone. She was wearing a backless dress, her golden skin bare to the waist. The silky fabric tied behind her neck, and his fingers itched at the sudden thought that one tug there would leave the entire thing in a luxuriant puddle on the floor.

Lorne looked at him with an amused expression. "You sly slice of pie. Bold of you to invite a vampire slayer to a Wolfram and Hart party," he said.

Angel's mouth quirked. "I didn't invite her."

"Well, bold of a vampire slayer to crash a Wolfram and Hart party, then. At least she knows how to make an entrance. Hubba, hubba."

Buffy had always been beautiful, all blonde hair and glowing skin and supple limbs, and the years had made her movements surer, her green eyes quicker to flash with challenge. She was still impossibly tiny and yet she commanded the room. She was breathtaking.

She turned toward him, finally letting his eyes catch hers, and she smiled. She nodded and mouthed one word to him: "Yes."

A potent wave of love and relief and — he couldn't deny it — lust swept through him. He knew what that "yes" meant. Tonight, after years of waiting, of wishing, of empty sheets and lonely nights, he was going to be with Buffy again.

Getting through the rest of this party was going to be torture.

Especially when the handsome, dark-haired man Buffy had obviously been looking for joined her, touching her elbow. Buffy inclined her body toward him, resting her hand on his arm. He leaned down so Buffy could whisper into his ear and placed his palm intimately on her back. It wasn't long before the man was looking in Angel's direction.

When he realized Angel was looking back, he averted his gaze hurriedly — confirmation that Angel hadn't lost his touch with a murderous glare. The guy must've been Buffy's ticket into the invitation-only event — the look in her eyes and the "yes" on her lips had been unmistakable — but that didn't mean he was taking any chances. Joe Hairline needed to know that he was already on the bad side of the scary new CEO of the nastiest business in town.

Against his better judgment, Angel began crossing the room toward them.

 

Buffy turned from her date and saw Angel was no longer in his spot on the raised platform. He was headed their way. He didn't look particularly happy.

But he did look like her own walking fantasy in his tux. She'd seen him like this once before — walking toward her across her high school gym instead of a hotel ballroom — and the memory hit her with force. Dancing in his arms, walking home with his jacket wrapped around her shoulders, parting with one last tear-filled kiss before she fled inside.

Well, tonight wasn't going to end in tears. At least, she hoped not. Tonight was going to end with her finally getting to tug loose his bow tie and slip open each little button…

Before her brain could undress him any further, he was at her side. "Buffy," he said, and everything else faded from view. The room was crowded but there were just two people in it. She needed to touch him. Her hands were shaking with it.

Why did she think it would be a good idea to show up at this party? Why did she want to torment herself like this? It would be hours before he could get away from his obligations, and she knew he didn't want his new corporate overlords to find out that his old flame was…rekindling.

But once she made up her mind to say yes, she had to tell him. As soon as she could.

"Angel," she breathed. The scowly look was gone from his face, and his eyes were filled with light. They were together, even if they couldn't be _together_ yet, and something warm fizzed up inside her.

Then she heard the sound of a throat being cleared nearby. She jumped.

"Angel, this is my date, Oliver Pike," she said quickly, turning to Pike. "Pike, this is Angel. He's the new CEO of Wolfram and Hart."

They shook hands, and from the look on Pike's face, none too gently. He was really a sweetheart for bringing her here tonight after seven years practically incommunicado. She'd kept up with him just enough to know that the indie zine he'd founded after high school had been surprisingly successful, so he had connections. And, sure enough, he'd known how to get them in at the last minute. He found it a fun challenge, even, crashing the muckety mucks' gala affair. He still wore a leather jacket instead of a tux. He looked good.

"Pike and I went to high school together, back at Hemery," Buffy told Angel. "He helped me burn down the gym during a vamp attack." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "In retrospect, Hemery got off pretty easy."

"It was quite the ride for me," Pike said. "Sorry to crash your party, man, but when Buffy says 'jump,' I…well, I assume it's a vampire thing."

"It's usually a vampire thing," Angel said, his amused eyes darting to Buffy. Before he could say more, though, he was being pulled away by an annoyed woman with an earpiece, leaving them with a hasty apology.

Buffy's eyes followed him as he walked. He turned back and gave her a tiny, private smile. She felt a little shiver down her spine.

Getting through the rest of this party was going to be torture.


	2. Chapter 2

Angel was trying not to let his eyes stray to Buffy too often as he continued his mingling duties. But it was damn near impossible as she twirled and laughed on the dance floor with Mr. I'm-Too-Cool-For-A-Tux.

He kept imagining what it would be like to run his hands over her soft skin, to tug on that bewitching knot at her neck.

"Angel," Wesley murmured, interrupting his thoughts. "You might want to try staring at Buffy slightly less frequently. Some of our guests are becoming concerned she'll be your next meal."

He tried to block out the fantasies that immediately began spiraling through his head.

He forced himself to focus on Wesley instead. If the guests were starting to notice his attention to Buffy, that was a bad sign. He had been adamant about keeping her away from these people, this whole scene. They knew he was weak where Buffy was concerned — they had already dangled her as bait to try to get him to take this deal with the devil in the first place. And that was Buffy his ex, the woman he'd hardly seen in the last four years. Who knew what they would try next, especially if she became Buffy his ex-ex.

He almost smiled at that. She was here. After everything he'd told her, everything he'd done, she wanted this.

Suddenly he wondered why he was still even attempting this ridiculous charade.

"Maybe I should just go," Angel said.

"Don't you still have to thank the donors and lead the champagne toast?" Wesley asked.

"I don't care," he said.

"Well, leaving now will certainly set tongues wagging."

Angel pressed his lips together. Wesley was right. If he left abruptly after staring at Buffy half the night, he would just be confirming her effectiveness as a target.

"To be frank, I've not the slightest idea why she's even here, consorting with that…chap," Wesley continued.

Angel's chest squeezed a little as he realized Wesley was feeling protective. He thought Buffy was here to flaunt her date.

Angel looked down into his drink, tilting the glass so the ice clinked against the sides. He swallowed what was left.

"I'm sure she has her reasons," he said.

 

†††

 

_A few weeks earlier_

It was Faith who first suggested pointing the little yellow school bus that could toward Los Angeles.

"We literally know a guy who owns a big ol' hotel two hours from here," she said. "No need to max out Giles' MasterCard for a couple nights' sleep."

And Buffy was just standing there at the edge of the crater, dazed, the trace of a smile still on her lips. She was so done with making the plans, and no one objected to Faith's, so she climbed on the bus with the rest of them and went along for the ride.

She didn't say a single word on the trip. Dawn tried to ask her if she was OK with heading to Angel's, but by that time, tears were escaping from the corners of her eyes at irregular intervals and so all her sister did was hold her hand. It was all crashing down on her — the slayers and Spike and the loss of her entire town. She'd figure out later how to feel, what to do.

When they got to the Hyperion, Angel was already waiting at the door. She could barely even speak, but she folded herself into his arms for a long moment. Then, without really knowing how, she was in a room with sweet-smelling sheets and a soft pillow, and she slept for a very long time.

The next day, she cried hot tears that drenched the pillowcase and made her feel cleaner than she had in months. She showered off the grime and dressed in clothes Dawn bought her at Target.

She knew now what to do. She gathered them all together for one more of her speeches. They didn't seem to mind that so much this time. She thanked them for everything they had given and she led them in trading stories about Spike and Anya and Amanda and the other slayers they'd lost in the battle. 

When it was over, she let Angel hold her again. It should have been strange to be in his arms while grieving someone else who had taken up space in her heart. But their relationship had always been like that for her. Big enough to transcend everything.

It didn't take long for people to start leaving. The slayers who didn't want to become full-time evil fighters called their parents or friends to arrange travel home. Robin was released after a couple of nights in the hospital, and a restless Faith convinced him to go with her and most of the remaining slayers to Cleveland, to set up shop on the nearest Hellmouth.

Dawn begged Buffy to let her spend the summer in England with Giles, as he salvaged what remained of the Watchers' Council resources and started helping the newly called slayers. (The chance to ride horses on Giles' family estate didn't hurt, either.) Buffy wasn't sure where Andrew went.

When most of them had gone, it was Willow who quietly asked Angel about Cordelia. They hadn't seen any of Angel's team since they arrived — he said they were all off working on a big new assignment — and even Buffy had realized something was off, despite her post-crater haze.

Angel took them to a hospital where their old — well, the word "friend" didn't quite capture it — lay sleeping, maybe never to wake. He'd explained that she'd been injured in their fight against a Big Bad named Jasmine, but Buffy felt like his story had a lot of blanks. There was little love lost between her and Cordy, but it still hurt to see such a vivacious person lying pale and still.

"Why can't all my exes just move to Texas?" Xander asked, trying to smile through tears.

At the end of the week, he decided to use some of his construction savings and finally take that cross-country road trip. "Bawl-apalooza 2003," he called it. Willow and Kennedy offered to go with him, but he refused. He needed the time alone, he said. Around the same time, Willow heard that her friends in the Devon coven were traveling to South America for a retreat, and she thought it was important to join them, to work through the changes she was feeling since her incredible power surge in Sunnydale. And where Willow went, Kennedy followed.

Then it was just the two of them. Buffy and Angel in a giant, empty hotel. Buffy realized she had been craving this time, to be quiet, to think, to be secluded but not alone. Angel would let her lean on him a little. He wouldn't make demands.

But, to her surprise, the first thing Angel told her was that she couldn't stay.


	3. Chapter 3

After Buffy left the Hyperion, it was two weeks before Angel saw her again. He'd moved into his shiny, awkward Wolfram & Hart apartment by then — he'd only been able to put them off long enough for the Sunnydale contingent to scatter to the winds. His friends had been moving into their offices, getting settled, and the doubts were already beginning to pile up.

Angel felt guilty for not telling Buffy exactly what was going on. He knew she wouldn't understand, that she would push. So he only told her that he was starting a big case and that the timing made it dangerous for her to stick around. Not because she couldn't take care of herself — he made sure to clarify that before her eyes got too stormy — but because they might try to hurt her to get to him, and didn't she want some peace and quiet right now?

He expected her to leave town. The people he loved were always safer away from him. She should have gone after Dawn and Giles to England, or even followed Faith to Cleveland. But instead she called him to say she was staying at her dad's empty condo in Santa Monica. "I remembered where he hides the key," she said. "It's really a shame to let oceanfront property go to waste, don't you think?"

He let himself get too busy to think about her. Well, that's what he told himself.

But then Giles called him in search of her. She wasn't answering her phone. It had been days. Fear grabbed him by the throat.

It was easy enough to find the address. He drove too fast through the slowly darkening streets. No one came to the door when he knocked. Panicked, he broke in. Quietly. On guard.

Soft music drew him through the condo to the deck. He pushed aside the gauzy cabana curtains, and there she was. Sitting in the hot tub. Wearing a black bikini and drinking wine. Her golden hair was pulled up in a twist.

"I was just thinking of you," she said with a smile that made him swallow hard. "Let me guess. Giles called you."

He tried not to let the little string bikini distract him as his relief brightened into anger.

"Why aren't you answering your phone?" he asked heatedly.

"Did you try calling?"

"No. Giles said—"

"I would have answered if you called. I'm just avoiding Giles at the moment. I know he wants me to go to London to help with a demon problem, and I'm just…I'm not ready for the hero-ing yet."

"He's worried."

"About me or about the demon?"

"Buffy," Angel said.

"I'll call him," she conceded. "In the morning. Let me have one more night of irresponsibility, please."

He nodded and started to turn to go. "I'm sorry about your door," he said, stopping himself and looking back at her. "I kind of…I broke it. I'll get someone over to fix it."

She smiled. "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't you want to get in?"

_Yes. Oh, please, yes._

"I would think you'd live in one of these things," she said, skimming her hand through the surface of the water. "It's so warm."

The rational part of his brain said he needed to deny himself. That he shouldn't be getting close to Buffy right now, not when his life was rapidly spinning out of control. But the part of him that loved her, that needed her, that _missed_ her, was already unbuttoning his shirt.

He didn't miss the little flash of triumph in her eyes. She watched him closely as he stripped out of his pants and shoes. He climbed in wearing only his boxer briefs and sat across from her.

She was right. The water warmed his blood, warmed him through to his bones. His body felt…almost alive. He made an involuntary sound of pleasure.

She grabbed the wine bottle and refilled her drink. "Oops, I only have one glass out here," she said. "We'll have to share."

She slid through the water until she was sitting next to him, close but not touching. She handed him the glass. He was careful not to let their fingers brush. The wine felt too astringent in his mouth, but he drank deeply anyway.

"How have we never done this before? We're in California — pools and beaches everywhere, and the only time we've been in water together was in the heat of battle." She grinned. "We've gone ice skating in Southern California, but never swimming."

"That was indoors," he pointed out. "A little easier for me."

"But swimming after dark is the best anyway...At least we're making up for it now."

He thought of Wolfram & Hart, of the dark, bleak road that lay ahead for him, of all he had lost. All he was still losing. And yet, somehow, seeing Buffy, here and real and smiling, made a flicker of hope come alive in his bones. Looking at her, he could believe.

"Wow, I just remembered that ice rink is gone," Buffy said suddenly. "It's all gone. The graveyards, the Bronze..."

"I always thought that place was kind of a safety hazard anyway," he said comfortingly. She smiled at him.

"Yeah, it's not all bad. We got rid of the DMV and the bank that wouldn't give me a loan. And that drafty old mansion of yours."

"Hey. I liked that place."

"Please. It was always freezing." She took the wine glass back from him, letting her hand just barely graze his. "Not that we didn't have some good memories there."

She quirked her eyebrow and took a sip.

He remembered nights in front of the fire, stealing kisses when he dared, watching her do homework or helping her train. The precious few nights she fell asleep in his bed.

"For example, there was that time I totally failed at reading your mind." 

_In 243 years, I've loved exactly one person._

"I remember that," he said. "If I recall, not long after, I ripped out a demon's heart and fed it to you."

"You always had a knack for romance."

One memory led to another and Angel let the world narrow down to the warm water and the sweet sound of Buffy's voice. He loved hearing her talk like this, about times when they had snatched a little happiness in the midst of the ever-unfolding chaos of their lives. It was good to know that when she looked back, there were highlights to their relationship beyond “you breaking up with me or me killing you,” as she had put it so recently in Sunnydale.

Buffy seemed to be feeling a little confessional. "I admit, I may have slightly exaggerated my interest in tai chi so that you'd teach me," she was saying, her eyes twinkling. "We were trying to do the just-friends thing and that was going _so_ well. Then we got that big speech from Spike..." She faltered and trailed off.

He didn't want the wider world to come rushing in again, but he had to know. "Buffy, about Spike..."

She tilted her chin and looked up at the sky for a moment. He got the impression that she was trying not to cry. Something in him went a little cold.

"I...I've been thinking about him a lot. I'm sorry you didn't get to know him with a soul. He was...well, he was still just as annoying." She smiled. "But he was good. He always had my back. I think...I think I really loved him."

Angel felt just exactly as if she had punched him in the stomach. He took the wine glass from her hand and raised it to his lips to hide his face. Buffy barely noticed, though, lost in thought.

He took a drink as he tried to figure out what he could possibly say. 

"But I wasn't...in love with him," Buffy continued. "I know that now. I wasn't sure before. But I'm proud of him, of who he became, and I'm—I’m grateful. For what he did."

She rested her head against Angel's arm and found his hand under the water. They sat like that for a while, listening to the sound of the jets. He felt a strange cocktail of relief and regret and confusion, but having her tucked against his side was a comfort unlike anything else he'd ever found.

Eventually she pulled away and turned to look at him. "How come every time I see you I end up spilling my guts? It really isn't fair."

Her eyes were so full he could drown in them. She reached up a wet hand to his cheek. Everything shifted, the very air beginning to crackle. He could feel it lodged in his throat, choking him — the need to be closer to her.

Then she was pulling back. She looked at her hand. "Ugh. I am majorly prunified. I think my jacuzzi time has expired."

She pulled herself up and out of the water. He followed, not looking forward to the cold reality that awaited him. They stood dripping on the deck for a moment before she turned to get towels.

She slipped a little as she moved and he automatically reached out to steady her, gripping under her arms. Her pulse accelerated and he could almost feel it throbbing in his own veins. Time shudder-stopped around them. Then he pulled her closer and she tilted her face to his and their lips met.

This kiss was not hello. Not a nice, polite, no-tongues greeting. This kiss was _I am burning for you, no one else has ever made me feel this way, yes-please-more_.

It was so good, so exactly what he wanted, that he started to get light-headed. He pulled them back until they tumbled into one of the lounge chairs on the deck. They collapsed into a heap and he started to chuckle, thinking he had broken the moment, but she pulled his mouth to hers again as she moved over him, straddling his lap. Her suit was thin and he was hard and it was Buffy and this had to be a dream.

He tried to remind himself of why they should stop. His life was a mess, and she'd told him she needed time. It was supposed to be "years, if ever," not just a few weeks. But he couldn't deny that he wanted her. Wanted anything she was willing to give. He drank in her kisses greedily. After the bitterness of the wine, she tasted honeyed on his tongue. He made his way leisurely down the line of her jaw and nibbled lightly at her neck. He was pleased when her fingers dug into his shoulders in answer.

He ran his hands slowly up and down her back. She was trembling. He wrapped his arms around her.

"You’re cold," he whispered.

“No,” she said, pulling back to look at him, her eyes dark and her hands braced against his chest.

He watched her intently as he pulled on the string at her back. She breathed in, a little shivery breath, and he reached for the tie at her neck. Her bikini top fell away. He took in the exquisite lines and curves of her with his eyes and then could wait no longer for a taste, bringing his kiss-warmed mouth to her breast. The moan she made spurred him on and he lost himself in teasing and tasting all the tempting skin on offer to him.

Her hips began to move, grinding against him, and eventually the need to explore more of her, to strip away the thin layers separating them and feel her all around him, grew too great to be denied. He began to tug on the string at her left hip.

She jumped as if she'd been stung. "Angel, we can't," she gasped, awkwardly disentangling their bodies and getting to her feet. She secured the tie of her bathing suit. Her hair had fallen free of its twist and it tumbled around her bare shoulders.

He got to his feet, needing to put his arms around her, to feel her body against his again. "It's OK." He kissed her again and again until she was breathless and clinging to him. "We can." He knew he wasn't being fair to her, but she was so close and it had been so long and part of him just wanted her to say yes.

But she was Buffy, and she had always been stronger than he was.

She pushed him away. "Angel," she said insistently. "How?"

The look on her face cut right to his heart. She wanted this, she wanted to trust him, but always she must think of the world. He was being a selfish bastard. He owed her everything. The whole story.

"I thought…” she continued. “In Sunnydale, I thought you were just being optimistic. But something..."

"Something changed," he confirmed gruffly, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. 

"But not a good thing?" She reached up to hold the towel closed, and he put his hands over hers.

"I'm sorry, Buffy. There's a lot I need to tell you. But not like this. Tomorrow, when both our heads are clearer."

He could tell she wanted to protest. He looked away, unable to handle the struggle and disappointment in her eyes. He started picking up his clothes. “OK,” she said uncertainly, clutching the towel around her more tightly.

"Down on the beach. Just after sunset."

He didn't wait for an answer, too afraid of what it might be. He grabbed his clothes and faded into the night.

 

When she appeared on the beach the next evening, she looked like a vision in a light blue sundress, the wind ruffling her hair. She folded her arms across her body and didn't get too close.

"I was right about Giles," she said before he could speak. "My flight leaves in the morning. I don't know when I'll be back. If I'll be back."

He nodded, something desperate prickling under his skin. Unable to stay still, he began walking down the beach and she followed on reluctant feet. When they were near the pier, he found an isolated bench and they sat down, facing the waves. He'd expected to ease into the whole horrible story, but in the end he just told her, in the simplest way possible, about the last two years. About Connor and Cordelia and Wolfram & Hart. He answered her shocked questions, and then he told her the rest.

About how there couldn't be perfect happiness for him anymore. Not when his son had been taken from him twice — and the second time by his very own hand.

She stood up then and made him look at her. There were tears in her eyes, but she was shaking her head.

"You can be with me because you think your life is ruined?" she said quietly. "Angel, that's horrible."

"Not to me," he said. "For me, it's something to hold on to. The hope of you."

She closed her eyes, sending tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Buffy, my son will always be a missing piece from my life. But this has only reminded me that we don't know how long we have with anyone. If we have another chance..." 

She wiped her hands over her face. "I need time. To think. It's too much."

"I understand." 

"I meant what I said in Sunnydale, about needing time to myself. I'm not sure I'm ready. And that was before...all this." 

"I know it's complicated." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know I'm probably asking for too much. Just think about it, while you're gone. Think about whether you can say yes."


	4. Chapter 4

"So... _is_ this a vampire thing?" Pike asked as they swayed on the dance floor at the Wolfram  & Hart gala. Buffy was trying to be subtle as she scanned the room for Angel. 

She wasn't sure how much to reveal to Pike. He wanted to know everything — about Sunnydale, about slaying. It was still too raw to tell him much, but in some ways it was easier to talk about it with someone who hadn't been there.

"Kind of," she finally answered.

"So it's true that your friend is a vampire?" Pike asked. "The CEO guy? Because I heard some people talking when I went to the men's room."

"It's true," she said. "But he's one of..." She corrected herself with a wince. "He's the only vampire in the world with a soul. So it's OK."

"I didn't know you could have a soul and work for Wolfram and Hart. Even I know they're the black hats."

"As with everything in my life,” she said, “it's beyond complicated."

†††

_"I can't believe you dropped all this on me and you just expect me to make a decision," Buffy said as soon as Angel picked up the phone._

_She’d just left the plane at Heathrow, which meant she’d spent about 11 hours in the air stewing over everything Angel told her before leaving L.A. She was too worked up to think straight. Her cell phone bill was going to be astronomical._

_Angel, on the other hand, was perfectly calm. "Buffy,” he said, “take as much time as you need. It's OK."_

_"Well, that's just—ugh—you know, you just—" she spluttered. "Fine."_

_She clicked off the phone in frustration._

†††

Pike had been mostly quiet since she told him about Angel's vamp status. The men in her life never seemed to take that well.

Meanwhile, Buffy still hadn't been able to spot the vampire in question from the dance floor. She was craning her neck and not trying as hard to be subtle anymore.

"Hey," Pike said suddenly. He brushed his hand over the scar on her neck, sending sparks scattering through her body. "You got bit."

"Occupational hazard," Buffy said. She felt herself turning faintly pink.

"Looks like it cut pretty deep."

"Yeah," she said, looking down. She started them moving to the music again. "But it's healed now."

She was grateful that Pike didn't push for more details. Sometimes she thought she should feel guilty about her scar. _No guy is worth your life, not ever_...But she could never regret it, even though she wasn't sure if Angel had ever forgiven her for it. For making him live. For the way she'd made him live.

But he'd left his mark on her mind and her heart and it seemed right somehow that she had a mark on her body as well. That she had physical evidence that he had been part of her life.

She was ready for him to be part of it again. She was still worried that they would sink under the weight of their combined baggage. It might be inevitable. But she had to find out.

She saw him then across the room, climbing back onto the raised platform. Someone handed him a microphone. It was so weird to think of Angel as the leader of a company. Somehow she still couldn’t quite believe it.

Though, to be fair, Angel the CEO wasn’t nearly as impossible as Angel the father. But even if vampires weren’t supposed to be able to have children, she could picture that easily. The thought of Angel cradling a sweet little bundle, pressing a kiss into a downy tuft of hair, made her breath catch.

†††

_"He was just a baby," she said, tears in her voice. "I can't believe someone could do that to a baby..."_

_It had only been a few days since she arrived in London, but already she was calling Angel again, alone in Giles’ flat after a busy night of demon hunting._

_Angel could only make a pained sound in answer._

_"I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, to help you."_

_"You couldn't have known," Angel answered. "It all happened so fast."_

†††

As soon as Angel finished his toast and handed off the microphone, he was swamped by well-wishers, mostly women. Buffy really couldn't blame them. He looked like Angel, of course. And he had seemed every inch the CEO of a company, with his quiet confidence and imposing manner.

She wasn't sure if Angel had changed so much as grown into himself, after the long years he'd spent purposeless and alone. But the life he'd led since he left her — both his gains and his losses — had left their mark. He had shown her over the years that he could be both the safest shoulder to cry on and the person to stand up to her when he thought she was wrong.

She thought maybe they could be even better for each other, now.

She couldn't help but watch as he bent closer to talk with a very attractive brunette. _Not_ that she was jealous.

†††

_"What about Cordelia?" she asked during her third call in a week. "What if she…wakes up?"_

_She listened as Angel took a deliberate breath. They had talked for a long time before she was able to bring up the question. It felt so wrong, even to be asking, but she had to know._

_"Cordelia is my best friend," he answered slowly. "I visit her every day. I care about her very deeply. There was a time when I thought...But, Buffy, I've never loved anyone the way I love you. I can't."_

_"I know the feeling," she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat._

†††

The gala was starting to wind down. The energy in the room had changed, and they could both sense it. Buffy felt her stomach twist in anticipation, and she was surprised when Pike looked at her with an expression that seemed equally jittery.

"I'm really glad you called today, Buffy," he began.

"So am I," she said, flashing him a smile. He'd been helpful and good company and it didn't hurt that he'd made Angel a little green-eyed. It was more than she could have asked for.

"I've been meaning to ask your permission for something."

That was unexpected. She looked up at him and crinkled her brow.

"I've sort of...written a book."

"A book? And you need my...? Oh. A book about me?"

"Well, it's fictional," he said. "No one would ever believe people used to go to the mall unironically."

She hit him playfully. "You take that back. Mocking the mall in my presence is punishable by an automatic fine."

They danced, letting music fill the silence for a little while.

"So you're OK with it?" Pike ventured.

"As long as you don't make me look stupid."

"Are you kidding? There's a guy in my story and you...you save him." Buffy's eyes suddenly found Angel's through the sea of people and her pulse accelerated. 

Then Pike spun her around with a flourish, making her laugh. "You save the whole damn world."

†††

 

_24 hours earlier_

She was going to tell Angel no.

Buffy had thought it all over a million times and it was the only sensible option. Her stomach got that scary high-wire feeling every time she thought about it, but she squashed it down.

He had just made some kind of a death-wish pact with his friends to take over an evil law firm, even if it was to save his son — the miracle baby he'd had with his vampire ex. There was no getting around it. This was absolutely the wrong time for them.

Plus, she had barely even started baking. She'd basically gotten out of the bowl and into the oven and now Angel was yanking the door open and trying to pull her back out again. At this rate, she'd never be done.

_You're never gonna be done_ , her traitorous brain muttered. She ignored that, too.

She was boarding a plane, heading back to L.A. She wasn't quite sure why she was going to tell Angel face to face that she couldn't see him face to face anymore, but it felt wrong to try to conquer the time zones just to disappoint him over the phone. And she knew she was going to need more wine and time in the hot tub — alone — once she let him down easy.

Buffy tried to picture it in her head. What she would say, the look on his face. But every time, she just ended up kissing him. And then she'd start to think about that night again, and exactly what would happen if they could pick up where they left off. The way his hands would feel, and the look in his eyes when...

But that wasn't why she was going back. She was going to tell Angel no.

The Hyperion looked completely abandoned when Buffy arrived in the midafternoon sun. The door was unlocked, though, and she pushed her way inside. She knew it was a longshot that she would find Angel here, but she couldn't exactly show up at his office downtown without setting off a million alarm bells, both figuratively and literally.

She figured if he wasn't at the hotel, she'd ask him to come and meet her. Better here than at her dad's condo, given their last encounter there. She didn't want to give off mixed signals, since she was definitely telling him no.

Buffy heard a noise in the main office and headed that way, steeling herself to face Angel's disappointment.

But what greeted her was a green demon with red horns and loud suit, pawing through the contents of Angel's desk. Her stake was instantly out of her pocket and raised in her hand.

"What have you done to Angel?"

The demon looked up at her, then casually went back to rifling through papers. "Only disorganized his mess a bit looking for the signed Bernadette Peters album he so carelessly left behind. What lax treatment of a goddess divine."

Buffy was too confused to keep her guard up. "You're Angel's friend?"

"Generally, though this Bernadette issue may introduce a strain." He slid open another drawer. "Ahh!" He pulled out a CD jewel case and kissed it. "The Queen of Broadway is free to reign over my ears once more."

"That's great," Buffy said awkwardly. He turned to her and extended his hand.

"Mr. Forgetful is lucky enough to be among those who call me Lorne. And you can be none other than Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

Buffy looked at the stake she was still holding, then pocketed it sheepishly before shaking his hand. "I guess I fit the profile."

"Oh, I knew even without the accessorizing. I've studied the chart in our files extensively," he said, gesturing toward some filing cabinets. Before Buffy could register her dismay, he added, "Plus, I've heard Angelcakes sing."

"He...sang about me?" she asked, bewildered.

"Honey, when he sings 'Mandy' it's hard to see anything _but_ you."

Buffy felt like she was talking to a riddle. Maybe it was better to move on to more practical topics.

"Do you know where he is now?"

Lorne looked at the clock. "Entering hour six of today's board meeting, I'd imagine. Won't be over until late. Then there's a gala this evening so the pillars of the community can rub elbows with the new CEO. If you want to see him today, slay belle, you're going to need an invite and a dress."

"Oh." Buffy deflated. "Well, it's not urgent." She didn't need to interrupt him just to let him know she was turning him down.

"Isn't it?" the green demon asked, his eyes twinkling.

And she knew. What she'd traveled 5,000 miles for. What she really wanted.

Angel. For always, and in every way.

She was going to need just the right dress.


	5. Chapter 5

The party was over. Angel stood in his dark office, his jacket gone and his collar open, looking down as the last of the guests left the hotel across the street and disappeared into black cars and taxis. He hadn't been able to find Buffy when it was time to go. His calls went to voicemail.

He felt like Cinderella's prince at midnight, alone and holding nothing but glass. It helped only a little that his contained two fingers of whiskey.

She must have changed her mind. Either that, or...The sudden thought that she might actually be in danger unnerved him. He whirled around, ready to head out into the night to look for her.

Buffy was standing in the doorway.

"How did you...?" He'd been so distracted he hadn't even heard her heartbeat approaching.

"Don't worry," she said. "I was very inconspicuous."

He put his glass down as he reeled from her sudden nearness. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn't have come here, but he couldn't even put on a show of displeasure. This office was where he was, and the only place in the world that he wanted her right now was in his arms.

His mind made up, he surged across the room and pulled her against him, his hand sliding over the bare skin of her back. The thrill that went through him was electric. He'd been dying to touch her all night, and she was petal-soft and fever-hot and even better than he imagined. He pushed the door shut behind her and then pressed her against it.

"You said yes," he reminded her, leaning down to nuzzle against her temple, her hair, her ear.

"Yes," she breathed as she brought her lips to his. "Yes."

He kissed her deeply, urgently, until he was almost overwhelmed by the scent of her, by the taste of her filling his mouth. He picked her up and she wrapped herself around him and his mind went blank of any thought but _Buffy, Buffy, Buffy_. He was too lost in her to even decide where to carry her and they ricocheted off pieces of furniture, sending who-knows-what crashing to the ground around them. Somehow, she ended up sitting atop his desk, his hands gripping her waist and her arms entwined around his neck.

He couldn't get over his fascination with her warm skin, sliding his hands up her back and over her arms until he was awash in tingling sensation. Then her fingers were working his buttons until she could tug his shirt from his body. In turn, his hands traveled to the tie at her neck. He hesitated, swallowing hard as their eyes met, a thousand things that could never be said passing between them. 

He worked the knot free.

The fabric fell, shimmering, to her waist. She laid her hands flat against him and pushed him back slightly as she glided off the desk to her feet, shimmying a bit so the dress fell away. He didn't think he could burn any hotter for her, but that little movement of her hips proved him wrong. She traced her fingers over his chest, leaving wildfire in her wake, and then guided his jaw down so she could kiss him again. Her lips made their way to his ear, where she whispered hotly, "Now you know why I picked this dress."

His chuckle was more like a moan. But as good as she felt touching him — and god did she feel good — he was driven by the need to see her. All of her. He pulled away. Her dress was on the floor and she was standing in front of him wearing only a tiny pair of satin panties and a slim stake in a little leather sheath strapped to her thigh.

It was saying something that in two and a half centuries, Angel had never encountered anything so perfectly tailored to his idea of sexy as Buffy at this moment, her parted lips wet from his kisses and every curve of her body outlined in moonlight. Enthralled, he knelt at her feet, pressing his open mouth against the slight swell of her lower belly and nibbling at her skin. He ran his fingers over the satin at her hips.

"So this is what I've been feeling tonight," he murmured teasingly as he kissed her thigh just above her formerly concealed weapon. 

"Or maybe I'm just very happy to see you," she said huskily.

He smiled into her skin, trailing his mouth upwards until his lips touched the silky fabric between her legs. His senses surrendered to her, his head conjuring images of grassy green hills, of sea, of home. 

He curled his fingers into her waistband to tug the barrier away, but she interrupted to first unclasp the leather holster, pulling it deliberately from her leg. She allowed him to drag the scrap of damp satin away next, leaving her completely bare to him, but then she made an impatient sound and moved down to the floor, removing the rest of his clothes swiftly. She had made him lie flat as she freed him from his pants, and when he tried to get up, she held him in place with one deceptively delicate hand. She leaned down and kissed him soundly. 

"I wanted to be patient," she murmured. "But I can't." 

Before he could even fully process her words, she had guided him to her center, sinking down until he was buried as deeply as possible inside of her. He watched the emotions play across her face as the weight of the moment came crashing down on both of them. Even the demon in him was temporarily stilled by the force of it.

"I love you," he said, unable to hold back the words. 

"I love you," she answered, her eyes shining. And it pained him to know that if his life had been different, his losses not quite so great, this could never have been safe.

She leaned down over him, and he lifted his mouth to hers as he tangled his hand in her hair, holding her against him. 

But the fire, the hunger, grew higher and hotter until they had to move. Buffy braced herself against him and began a slow, deep, delicious rhythm. As their pace inevitably quickened, he brought his hands to her hips to support her. Watching her as she moved above him — with her tumbling golden hair, her pink-tipped breasts, her dark lashes against creamy cheeks — was a profound pleasure of its own. She had haunted his dreams for so long, but no dream could ever live up to this.

The lush heat of her was overriding his decades of experience with delay and denial. The undulating motion of her hips was unrelenting and the grip of her muscles too intense to withstand for long. Buffy had always been uniquely able to cut through his defenses.

His fingers trailed across one hip and dipped in between her thighs, seeking. He touched her just so, making her eyes fly open to meet his. She gave him the ghost of a smile, then bit her lower lip. Her eyes fell closed again as her chin tilted up, sending her hair cascading down her back. She was panting hard now, and he heard her breath hitch just before she began to shudder all around him. He still felt like he should wait, should hold back on his own pleasure, but the sound of her gasping out his name in bliss was more erotic than he could resist, and with a rough cry, he followed her over the edge.

†††

It was a long time before they had exhausted themselves enough to consider sleeping. They had finally made their way to his apartment and his bed. Buffy was lying on top of him, her head pillowed on his chest and his hand stroking her hair. She had tried to roll away, but he wouldn't allow it, needing her weight sinking into him and her heartbeat pulsing against him to believe any of it was real. He forced himself not to think of the last time, or the time before. It would be different now.

It had to be.

"If I fall asleep...you'll still be here when I wake up, right?" Buffy asked.

"As long as you stay right where you are, I won't be going anywhere."

The answer seemed to satisfy her. She wriggled a bit on top of him, pushing him more firmly into the mattress. If she hadn't already worn him out, they would have been off to the races again.

"Buffy..." He had to say it. "I'm glad that you came back."

She kissed his chest. "Me too," she said tenderly. "But you know, you could have told me at some point that you had a nice demon friend. I almost slayed him at the hotel today."

"Lorne? He was the one who told you about the gala?" Angel said, surprised.

She let out a sleepy, contented hum of confirmation, her eyes already closed. He couldn’t help muttering under his breath, "Sly slice of pie, huh?"

“Hmm?” Buffy murmured.

He kissed her head. “Nothing.”

He could feel her breathing evening out, her body relaxing. He let the waves of her wash over him, draw him down and under. His eyelids grew heavy.

"By the way," he whispered, his eyes sliding closed, "I really liked your dress."


	6. Epilogue

The next morning, he woke to see Buffy standing near the window, clothed only in the morning light. She was watching him. 

"When the sun woke me up, I got scared and tried to close the blinds," she said. "But then I realized you weren't all burny." 

"Special glass," he said in a scratchy morning voice, a smile on his lips.

She nodded and returned the smile, walking back toward the bed. His eyes were glued to every move of her sun-kissed body.

"Angel, I've been thinking…" 

"Don't take this the wrong way, because I absolutely want to hear what you have to say," he said. "But you have to get dressed or hold that thought, because—" 

She fell on top of him in the bed and kissed him. He felt the overpowering need to worship every inch of her in the golden sun. He was grateful it was Saturday and his calendar was clear. It was going to be a very busy day.

 

Sometime later, she lay next to him on the pillow, their foreheads touching, their hands still roaming. 

"You can't stay here," she said softly, tracing his jawline. "They'll eat you alive."

"I know."

"You know?"

He rolled onto his back and sighed. "I made a deal with the devil, Buffy. I don't expect it to go my way."

"So what is this?" She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "One last happy-but-not-too-happy roll in the hay before you go off to the slaughter?"

"It's not like that." He sat up, too.

"So you expect us to be together here?"

"No. You don't belong here."

She put her face in her hands. "I can't believe I actually thought we could finally be together."

He pulled her hands away and held them. "We can. We just…need to be quiet about it." Now that he'd said it, it sounded stupid even to him.

"Until you die? When? A week? A month?"

He couldn't answer. He got out of the bed and pulled on a pair of pants.

"You don't have to do this, Angel," she said to his back. "You can change your mind."

"I don't think it works that way." He turned around. "And what about Connor? I have to go through with this."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "We're going to fight." 

And there it was. Why he'd been afraid to tell her in the first place. She never shied away from a challenge, and he didn't want to sign her up for one she wouldn't win. But he couldn't prevent the flickers of hope he felt around her start to grow into a flame. _Together, you are powerful._

"How?" he asked, in spite of himself.

"I don't know yet. But there has to be a way to save Connor and save you, too. We have Willow and her coven and slayers all over the world now. Won't you at least try?" 

Just a day ago, he would have told her it was impossible. Too risky. He would have sent her away. But now he couldn't even imagine letting her go again.

It was his turn to say yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think they're going to be so happy that they're going to have to get the curse fixed too! ;)
> 
> I know the structure of this one was a little weird, so kudos to anyone who made it this far! Happy IWRY! And thanks to angelus2hot for keeping the marathon running!
> 
> Stay tuned for a bigger story from me coming later in the month, plus a few one-shots!


End file.
